Our Little Slice of Heaven
by matchbookhearts
Summary: Kurt Hummel never believed in God.  He never believed in a Heaven or Hell.  He never believed in an afterlife.  But waking up in an alternate reality after his suicide, Kurt Hummel has no idea what to believe.   Based off the movie Wrist Cutters.
1. Chapter 1

It's a Fall Tuesday in Ohio. The leaves on the trees in Lima have just started changing into beautiful oranges and starlets. Children who are too young for school are out playing in leaf piles that their parents rake together. An elderly couple walks along the sidewalk. They hold each others gloved hands as the wind blows fallen leaves around them. The sun above ducks behind clouds, casting shadows on the ground below. The only car on the streets is a black Navigator. The driver pulls into the driveway of a small, one story home. A seventeen year old boy excites the car, dropping the keys on the seat and leaving the doors unlocked. His once perfect hair is cast in every direction as if he had been running his hand through it for a long period of time. Silent tears fall from his face and soak into his shirt. He makes no move to wipe them away as he walks into the house. He turns the dead lock on the door and walks to the kitchen. The house phone is blinking with 14 missed calls and messages. He slips his hand into his own pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He feels a stab of pain upon viewing the photo of him and his father as his background image. He clutches the counter, coughing and doubling over. He could almost hear his own heart breaking again. He takes a minute to calm his breathing before walking to the stairs leading down to his room. He flips the light on and shuts the door at the top of the stairs. He slowly makes his way down into his room. The room that once was a safe haven, now felt like a jail. He plugs his phone into the iHome and clicks play on the last song he was listening too before his day took a turn for the worst.

_Love of mine some day you will die  
>But I'll be close behind<br>I'll follow you into the dark_

The boy snorted at the irony of the song and put it on loop. He then turned to his mirror and pulled a picture down. If anything was left to break in his chest, it broke while clutching the picture. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the photo for what seemed like hours. The photo was of a beautiful woman with porcelain skin holding a newborn. Beside her stood a handsome man, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. Both man and woman were smiling down at their baby. The boy let out a shaky breath. He wiped his tears away and stood. He walked to his closet and sifted through his clothes until finding his best outfit. He stripped down and changed into the new clothes, tossing the first outfit into his hamper. He zipped up black studded boots and turned around to fix his hair in the mirror. Only then, when he looked his very best, did he pull out a sharpie and write his goodbyes on his mirror. They weren't long. The only person he had left was now gone. He capped the marker and set it down. He picked up the picture again. He gently pressed it to his lips, closing his eyes. He stood, motionless, collecting himself. Once ready, he kneeled and reached for something hidden under his bed. Finally his fingers hooked onto the rope and he pulled it out. He examined the noose at the end. He had tied the actual knot over a year ago. The rope was rough between his fingers. He stood on his bed and reached for the open pipe that ran overhead. His father had never finished the ceiling in the basement so there was one pipe that was still visible. He tied the other end of rope around the pipe and gave it a good tug. He had tested this multiple times so he knew it would hold. He then slipped the rope around his throat. Picture of his parents still in hand, Kurt Hummel stepped of his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey babe? Do you see that?" a tall blond said over the breeze. A Latina girl sat up from her towel. She looked to where the blond was pointing. Not fifty yards away, washed up, was what seemed to be a body.  
>The darker girl sighed. She mumbled 'fresh meet' under her breath and laid back to soak up the sun.<p>

If there was one.

"That damned sun. One thing I'll forever miss. Right?" the girl went to tap the blond but to find her hand hitting the other towel. She shot up and pushed her sunglasses to her head.  
>"Dammit Brit." She glanced around, making sure they were the only ones on the secluded beach, and raced after the blond.<p>

Kurt's head was pounding. Surely his suicide had worked. There was no possible way to have survived his hanging. But the throbbing pain in his head and the voices he herd tossed everything he believed out the closest window.

"Is he a dolphin San?"  
>"No Brit."<p>

He felt a soft hand ghost over his face. The touch was so light, Kurt might have imagined it.  
>"He looks like a doll! Can we keep him?" the first voice said, now closer to his face<br>"I don't know Brit. We don't know anything about this kid. He could be mental for all we know!"

Finally, Kurt had had enough. He opened his eyes to give his best bitch face but stopped short when his eyes met another set of crystal blue ones. Just inches from his face was a girl who couldn't be older then him. Her golden hair tickled his checks as she cocked her head to the side, staring down at him in wonder. The longer Kurt stared, the more everything around him didn't make sense.

"But how?" he whispered, hand reaching up to touch the girls hair. He must be in heaven.

Suddenly, his hand was swatted away by who must have been the other voice.

"Paws off."

He turned his head to see a Latina girl. She scowled at him and grabbed the blonds arm, pulling her away from him. The blond sat back on her knees, head still tilted and staring.

"What's your name kid" she asked, eyes raking him over.

"K-Kurt Hummel." He looked past the girls. He noticed a teal little beach house. He looked up. No sun in the sky. Not a cloud in sight either. But he could feel the suns warmth on his skin. He could almost see the heat radiating off the sand around them. He looked back to the water. Small waves were crashing in near his feet. He rubbed his eyes. This was wrong. All of it. He sat up, wet clothes clinging to his skin.

"Why am I wet?" he asked, looking back at the girls.

"Santana and I pulled you out of the water. You have such pretty clothes." The blond answered.

"Who are you? And where am I?" Kurt asked, still looking around nervously.

"I-uh. San?" the blond turned to the latina, "You want to tell him?" she scooted over next to the other girl. Kurt looked back and forth between the pair. Nothing was making sense.

She sighed and pushed the blonds' hair out of her face. "Fine. But you're the one who has to talk to Q." She turned back to him. "The name is Santana Lopez. This here is Brittany Peirce," She bumped shoulders with the blond and Brittany waved. "Now to answer the where part, that's a little more complicated." She sighed; face softening as she turned to Brittany. "Why don't you go warn Q that we have company. You guys can make some lunch while I explain everything to doll face over here." Brittany agreed cheerfully, kissing Santana's cheek. Kurt's eyes widened at the loving gesture as she waved and ran back the beach house he had spotted earlier. Santana turned back to him, taking the look of shock on his face as one of disgust.

"You got a problem with Brit and I? Just because you're new and Brit likes you doesn't mean I won't crack your nuts."

"Oh no! I just…haven't met anyone…" Kurt couldn't finish. He had never met anyone out and showing affection like that. All his life, he was the only gay person he had ever know.

"Anyone gay?" Santana scowled at him.

"I've never met any others," Kurt whispered under his breath. "Back home, I was the only out person."

"Oh. I know how that feels." She said softly. Kurt looked back to Santana and they locked eyes. He could see the pain in them. But just as quickly as she let him in, he was shut out. She lifted the sunglasses from onto of her head and slid them on, making it imposable to see her eyes. They stayed silent for a few minutes.

"So do you mind telling me how I got here?" Kurt asked, getting Santana's attention.

"You and I both know what you did to get here. The question you want to ask is where you actually are." Santana gave him a look that even behind sunglasses, Kurt knew she was talking about his suicide. Before he could ask how she knew, she continued. "You could call this place an after life. It would make more sense then what a lot of people say. But one thing that never changes, no matter who you ask, is how people got here." She sighed again. "We're all dead. And we all killed ourselves."

Kurt saw it coming. But still hearing Santana say it out loud hit him like a train.

"So my suicide did work?" was the first thing out of his mouth. Santana snorted and stood up.

"Sure did doll face. Now let's go back to the house. We can talk more about it over lunch. Q has been here the longest so she can answer most of your questions." She started walking back to a pair of towels that were lying out in the sand. Kurt got to his feet and followed Santana to the house that Brittany disappeared into. Santana stopped when they reached the door and turned to Kurt. She pushed back her sunglasses so Kurt could see her eyes again. She gave him a kind look and put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"It's going to be confusing at first, but I'm sure you'll like this place after a while Kurt."

She then turned back to the door and threw it open. "I'm home bitches!"

Kurt looked back to the beach they were just on. He didn't understand how or why he was still 'alive', but for the first time in years, he didn't feel bad about it. He let out a huff and turned back to the open door.

"Well. Here goes nothing." He mumbled, walking into the house.


End file.
